


Pink Hearts, Candy Grams, and Other Missives of Terror

by tinkertoysdamn



Series: Mirror Fluff [1]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: Mirror Universe
Genre: Crack, F/M, Fluff and Crack, M/M, Mirror Universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-06
Updated: 2013-04-06
Packaged: 2017-12-07 17:01:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/750898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinkertoysdamn/pseuds/tinkertoysdamn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fill for issenterprise Valentine’s kink meme.  Prompt: In the mirrorverse, everyone is just as badass and evil like we always imagine them to be, but instead of embracing cuteness and fluff, they are scared shitless of it. . .So, 5 people who were traumatized by McCoy's Valentine's day spirit and 1 person who secretly didn't mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pink Hearts, Candy Grams, and Other Missives of Terror

Sickbay was pink. Paper streamers, cut out hearts (not of the flesh variety) and arrangements of fresh cut flowers signaled only one thing: It was Valentine’s Day aboard the ISS Enterprise. The source of this explosion of fluff and mirth was the most feared man on the ship, Dr. Leonard McCoy.

Genial and helpful, the man always had a kind word and a twinkle in his eyes for his patients. He had the hands of a healer and no interest in the cutthroat politics that governed life on a starship. Under most circumstances, that sort of man would never have survived the harsh rigors of Starfleet but McCoy had a secret. He was only like that ninety-nine point five percent of the time. It was the other point five percent that scared everyone shitless.

That point five percent was why Captain James T. Kirk, the second most feared man on the ship, was letting his CMO ramble at him right now. 

“You know Jim, one of these days you need to start thinking about settling down.” McCoy pressed a hypospray gently into the captain’s neck, ignoring the slight twitch the other man gave. “There’s nothing better than coming home to someone waiting for you, to someone who’s genuinely happy to see you.”

“I could get a dog,” Kirk snapped.

“Now Jim,” McCoy said, his hands on his hips, “a dog will love you unconditionally, but it won’t replace having someone at your side.” 

Now Kirk was just getting irritated. “I’m doing fine on my own.” 

McCoy flashed him one of his terrifyingly friendly grins. “Then why do you keep coming into my sickbay with STDs, captain?”

They stared at each other for a moment, Kirk uncertain how to respond. He could feel the ice under him cracking. “Um, I’ll think about it.”

“Great!” McCoy slapped Kirk on the back. “Why don’t you talk to that Lt. Moreau in Science? She seems like a nice girl, might even be able to keep up with you.”

“I’ll do that.” And Kirk scurried out of the room. 

McCoy just chuckled and shook his head. “One of these days he’ll find the right girl.”

The doctor looked back over his shoulder. “Stop moping back there, Christine. It’s Valentine’s Day and a pretty thing like you shouldn’t be depressed.”

Christine Chapel came out from behind the partition, rubbing at her reddened eyes. “I have every right to feel shitty today,” she said. 

“Don’t be like that. I got you a present.”

Christine stiffened. A present could mean any number of things. It could be the start of a courtship, it could be a friendly gesture from boss to subordinate, or it could be a trap to kill her. 

As McCoy brought out the lovely bouquet of flowers, Christine feared it was the latter. There was a story that had circulated when she had first come on board the Enterprise that McCoy had killed an Admiral with a box of kittens. The deadly balls of fluff had been sent to the Admiral’s home and the dander released upon opening the container had sent the man into anaphylactic shock. He was dead within moments. 

The flowers were beautiful. Christine accepted them with as much grace as her trembling limbs would allow. She took a wary sniff, expecting her throat to close and her eyes to water as her life ended. Nothing happened.

“Aren’t they nice?” McCoy asked, face expectant. 

“Lovely,” Chapel answered, not sure where this was going.

“Now Christine, if you want you can take the rest of the day off. I know things have been hard lately and if you need me to take care of that Riley boy—“

Oh. That explained quite a bit. As angry as she was at Riley, she didn’t want to sic the good doctor on him. That was just too cruel. “I’ll finish out the rest of the day, sir. Work always makes me feel better.”

The doctor was pleased. “That’s the Christine I know.” 

Nurse Chapel just gritted her teeth and smiled, because who knows what would have happened if she hadn’t. 

\----------------

It was at fifteen hundred hours that the navigation console sparked with a short in the system, burning Ensign Chekov’s fingers. He could stand the pain; pain was easy to ignore once you had spent time in the Agony Booths. He could stand the speculative stares from superior officers, knowing that every glance was a test for weakness, for blood in the water. What Chekov couldn’t stand was that he’d have to go to sickbay. 

Dr. McCoy had adopted Chekov as a surrogate child, which was especially strange since the doctor wasn’t that old. Although he had the sense not to believe that Chekov was helpless, he did treat the younger man with a disquieting affection. The ensign was terrified that one day McCoy would find him wanting.

The doctor bandaged his hands with cool professionalism, the pain fading as he worked his medical miracles. As much as he feared the man, Chekov did respect McCoy as a doctor. The Enterprise was lucky to have him, even if it meant enduring the indignity of having a grown man put a sparkly sticker on your bandage. 

“There, all taken care of. You’ll be off-duty for a few days while that heals, but then you’ll be good as new,” Dr. McCoy reassured him. “And for being such a good patient, here’s a treat.”

The doctor dug through a jar filled with little heart-shaped candies. He placed one in Chekov’s palm.

The Russian looked down at the sweet and read the message written on it. His blood ran cold. “Be Mine.” 

“But doctor, I can’t. Hikaru—“

Dr. McCoy frowned in displeasure. He looked down at the candy and rolled his eyes. “Sorry, wrong one.” He plunked the offending heart out of Chekov’s palm and replaced it with a plain white one.

It said, “Happy 4 U.”

Chekov’s heart felt like it was going to leap out of his chest. Oh, thank god. 

Dr. McCoy slid an arm around Chekov’s shoulder. “Just remember Pavel, if Sulu gives you any trouble you know who to talk to.”

If the doctor had Sulu in his sights this was bad, very bad. Chekov immediately defended his lover. “Hikaru is no trouble at all. Perfect gentleman!” 

“Good.” McCoy moved away from the ensign to type out something on a PADD. “Come in tomorrow afternoon for your checkup, we’ll see how those burns are healing.” 

Chekov nodded, already moving toward the door. “Thank you, doctor. Thank you.” 

\----------------------------

The botany lab was Hikaru Sulu’s domain. By day he was the Security Chief and a pilot, both jobs that were very stressful. He had fought for those duties with blood and with blood he would keep them. He had few friends but he had much respect. When he wanted to be alone, he retreated to the lab and woe to anyone who interrupted him as he tended his plants. 

“Hello lieutenant, your roses are looking lovely today.”

Except for Dr. McCoy. Really, anyone with half a brain on the ship was scared of McCoy and Hikaru was a certified genius. 

“Can I help you, doctor?” Sulu asked.

“I was just stopping in,” McCoy said. He sniffed at a striking orange flower. “Lovely bouquet. Did you hear about Chekov’s accident?” 

“Yes,” Sulu kept his voice neutral. He wasn’t sure where this was going. “I was on the bridge when it happened." 

“Ensign Chekov will be off duty for a few days to recuperate, he really shouldn’t use his hands,” McCoy remarked. He ran his finger down the edge of a pointed succulent, admiring the color. “In fact, he might require some personal care for a while.”

Sulu was very confused now. “And what does this have to do with me?” 

McCoy’s lip curved up. “I’m just saying that Chekov will need a little TLC for the next few days and you really should be the one to provide it.”

Sulu was about to ask if he really should take relationship advice from a divorced man but thought the better of it. He remembered what happened the last time someone smarted off to McCoy. Lt. Finnegan had made some crack about the pictures of Joanna that the doctor had up in his office and disappeared the next morning. 

The smell of potpourri had lingered for days.

Taking some advice was a small price to pay for the privilege of staying alive. “I’ll see Pavel this evening.”

“Good man.” McCoy clapped Sulu on the back and wondered off to do whatever it was the man did on his off time. Hikaru sighed as the blue clad medical officer disappeared from view. He took out his shears and snipped off a bud from his prized roses. He took in the scent. Maybe playing nursemaid to Pavel wouldn’t be so bad.

\---------------

Scotty had received an anonymous note telling him to go to Rec Room Five at nineteen hundred hours. He had thought about ignoring it but the note had been saturated with perfume. Perfume that belonged to a certain lady he had wanted for months. 

Lt. Nyota Uhura was as beautiful as she was dangerous. A genius in communications technology and languages, Scotty had fallen hard for her sharp mind as well as the curves of her body. Unfortunately, he had little to offer politically and felt that an ambitious woman like Uhura needed power more than affection. 

As the door to Rec Room Five opened he blinked in amazement. The room was lit with candles; soft music floated through the air and on the table was a delicious dinner. Two wine glasses and an unopened bottle completed the picture.

He stepped in; surprised that someone had taken all of the trouble. The door behind him opened and he heard a soft gasp. “Scotty?”

There she was, all dark beauty and softness. Her normally harsh eyes were dark with pleased surprise, her hand to her mouth in shock.

“Miss Uhura?” he asked.

Uhura slinked forward, sure hands cradling the back of his skull. Her lips met his with a happy hum. They never made it to the dinner table.

As they lay satiated on the floor Uhura, no, Nyota curled against his chest and Scotty grinned. “That was the best Valentine’s Day ever. I’m glad you thought of it.”

Nyota sat up, alerted. “Thought of what?"

“The dinner, the invitation, you know,” Scotty said.

Uhura stared straight into Scotty’s eyes. “I never sent you an invitation.” 

Scotty frowned in annoyance. He flailed around for the discarded piece of paper. “What’s this then?”

Nyota picked it up and shook her head. “This looks like the one I got.”

“Wait, you got one too?” Wheels were turning in Scotty’s head. “If you got a note and I got a note, then who sent them? 

Then it clicked. Two weeks ago he had been on shore leave drinking and pouring his heart out about the unattainable Lt. Uhura. There had been only one witness to this outburst other than the bartender. Scotty shivered and it wasn’t with the cold.

From the look on Nyota’s face she had come to the same conclusion. 

“McCoy,” they said at the same time.

Nyota was close to panic. “How can he read us this well?”

Scotty shook his head. “I don’t know but for right now let’s just be thankful he likes us. Imagine what would happen if he didn’t.”

They scrambled off each other and hastily threw on their clothes. It was better to continue such discussions in private and away from the room that no longer seemed so romantic.

\----------------

It was Valentine’s Day again, one of the few Earth holidays that his mother insisted that they celebrate. Although Spock’s father thought the whole exercise a waste of time, he had allowed Amanda to teach their son the finer points of paper valentines, candy and other tokens of esteem. Sarek would also reluctantly participate by giving his wife flowers or a card. 

Once grown, Spock no longer participated in the holiday, as he had no one with whom he wished to share it. He had also found most Starfleet personnel wary not only of him but of gifts of a gentler nature. This Valentine’s Day, however, was different.

Secreted between two PADDS was a piece of red paper. It had a simple message on it meant for one person in particular. As Spock entered the sickbay, he did not see his intended target. He turned to Nurse Chapel, “Is the doctor in?”

The nurse nodded. “He’s in his office, but I warn you.” Her voice dropped to a low conspiratorial whisper, “He’s in a mood today. 

The Vulcan raised an eyebrow. “A good mood?”

“Very.” With that Chapel departed to finish her rounds. 

Spock strode into the doctor’s office, confident that he could work this good mood to his advantage. Dr. McCoy was at his desk, filling out paperwork as was usual for the end of the day. What was not usual was the large brown teddy bear perched on the edge of the desk. The teddy bear had fangs.

“What is that, doctor?” Spock asked, indicating the toy.

McCoy looked up from his worked and grinned. “Spock, just the man I wanted to see. That,” he pointed his stylus at the bear, “is for you.”

Spock set down his PADDs and picked up the strange creature. He examined it, noting the black suture thread that held the fangs into place. The doctor had made the modification himself, interesting. “This resembles a sehlat.”

“Does it?” McCoy spun in his chair to face his visitor. “I had a long talk with your father the other day, nice man, stoic but nice, and he mentioned that you had one growing up.” 

It was only Spock’s great control that prevented his eyebrow from twitching. He wasn’t sure how he felt about the doctor being in contact with his father, but if it was to find out more about Spock himself than it could be accepted as a good sign. “Thank you for the gift, Dr. McCoy.”

“You’re welcome,” the doctor responded in his own easy manner.

When the Vulcan did not leave, McCoy fidgeted in his seat. Apparently the other man was so used to everyone running away from him that Spock’s continued presence was unsettling. “Something else I can help you with, Spock?” 

“Indeed.” Spock picked up his discarded PADDs and plucked out the red paper heart. He handed it to McCoy. “For you.”

The message was traditional and written in glitter, “Be My Valentine.”

Moments later as Spock found himself pressing an aroused doctor against his desk, McCoy’s tongue dueling with his own for dominance, he realized exactly why his father indulged his mother on Valentine’s Day. The rewards were most stimulating. 

 

The End


End file.
